


That Perches in the Soul

by fandomfix



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Hopeful Ending, Letters, M/M, Pining, aziraphale's pov, reading way too much into something cause damn you love that demon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-07 18:28:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19474843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomfix/pseuds/fandomfix
Summary: It didn’t take long for him to realize that perhaps it wasn’t what Crowley embodied that he was so drawn to, it was Crowley himself.





	That Perches in the Soul

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Hope Is The Thing With Feathers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19372759) by [Gefionne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gefionne/pseuds/Gefionne). 



> Heyyyyy all! Less than a week and I'm back again with more good good GO fic! This one is inspired by [chapter 3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19372759/chapters/46335400#workskin) of "Hope is The Thing With Feathers" by gefionne, which if you aren't reading....well i don't know. Go read it cause it's great.
> 
> And in case you didn't pick up on it, the title belongs to Emily Dickinson. Who I totally respect cause I too would love to write tons and then die before most people read it and possibly tell me it sucked.

Aziraphale doesn’t notice it until after he’s left. He sits in that field, staring at the sky and trying to get his nonexistent heartbeat under control. He strokes the feathers still in his hand with a sort of mindless care.

He doesn’t know how to deal with this. He’s known his purpose since the day he was sent down to Earth, since he was sent to the Garden. And even if he’s fudged the rules sometimes, even if the higher ups don’t approve of how much he cares for the humans, he’s always done his job. Always done everything for the greater good of Heaven.

Except when it comes to Crowley. Because he should have smote him years ago and even in the beginning* he couldn’t do it. He looked at that unaffected smile, the joy in the demon’s voice as he talked about the sword, and knew he couldn’t snuff it out.

(*but not _that_ Beginning, although you should know that already)

The feeling has only gotten worse as the centuries have marched on. He can’t extinguish the freedom, the free will, the _humanity_ of the demon Crowley. And to send him away sounds like the worst punishment Aziraphale could ever endure.

It didn’t take long for him to realize that perhaps it wasn’t what Crowley _embodied_ that he was so drawn to, it was Crowley himself.

Which made the whole “on opposite sides, will be destroyed if they find out we’re actually friendly” situation even more difficult.

So, he hid how he felt. He hid the growing joy he experienced every time he realized Crowley was near. The fluttering of his chest and his wings when he heard his voice or caught a glimpse of that bright hair. And because he did so well hiding these thoughts from himself, he was useless to stop the march from admiration and warmth, to Love. Because he loved Crowley deeply and missed him when he was gone.

Which was why he suggested the letters.

He knew they couldn’t contact each other often. Knew that any physical proof of their dealings with each other was dangerous. But he was so tired of only seeing Crowley every hundred years or so. Tired of not knowing what he’d been up to, where he’d been, who he’d been with. Tired of this useless longing which frankly interfered with his day-to-day.

So, he suggested the letters. Offered Crowley one of his feathers to write with when the demon tried to use lack of instruments as a means to decline. And then some insane feeling in his chest boiled over and he asked for one of Crowley’s feathers in return. As if he didn’t have more than enough writing utensils to begin with. As if he needed some physical representation of Crowley with him at all times, to keep him company in the space between letters.

Which, to be honest, he did.

And now look at where he was. A little over a hundred years after the fact, a small pile of letters wrapped in ribbon that he read far too often, and two new feathers to write with. His heart had picked up speed at Crowley’s unexpected appearance today. With his departure, Aziraphale felt as if something had shifted. Maybe Crowley cared more for him than he’d previously thought.

He wasn’t deluded enough to think Crowley loved him. But if the demon felt even the slightest bit of how Aziraphale felt, there was hope.

He could retire the original feather now. Wrap it in the ribbon with the letters. Or maybe it was time to get a box for them, someplace to keep them safe over the coming centuries. Dry and preserved. Crowley was no great writer, but then neither was he. The letters weren’t about fantastic story telling. They were about reading words on a page and hearing Crowley’s voice in his ear, if only for a moment. Even if it wouldn’t replace the real thing.

He doesn’t notice it until after Crowley has flashed away. He walks back to his home, wandering over by the table to place the feathers somewhere safe. And something out of the corner of his eye draws his attention. He’s overcome with a smell like sunlight and brimstone. 

Sitting on a chair, waiting for him to see it, is Crowley’s coat.

He stops. He stares at it, absentmindedly setting the feathers down.

His nonexistent heart picks up speed for the millionth time and he walks over to pick it up.

Crowley probably left it by accident. He left so fast that he certainly didn’t realize it wasn’t on him. He might come back for it.

Aziraphale picks it up, folding it with great care* and goes to place it in the closet by his front door. It will be safe that way, like the letters. Like the feathers.

(*if he lifts it to his nose to smell for just a moment, that’s his own embarrassing business, and no one was around to see it anyway)

It means nothing. But Aziraphale chooses to take it as another reason to hope.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it, and please please go read the original fic!
> 
> Come say hey on [tumblr](https://fandomfix8.tumblr.com) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/fandomfix8)!


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